


A Study In Impossible Things

by YourLoyalBlogger



Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland (Movies - Burton), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alice in Wonderland References, Fantasy, Inspired by Alice in Wonderland, intrusive narration, victorian london
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-26 15:59:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16684672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourLoyalBlogger/pseuds/YourLoyalBlogger
Summary: John Watson lives alone, in a dull boring world. Filled with ordinary things and he doesn't feel alive anymore. Until one day he answers an ad asking for a flatmate and is propelled into a world fill with the impossible and the ridiculous. And meets a man that will change his life forever. Sherlock Holmes. Wonderland AU. {TAKE 2}





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Study In Impossible Things -abandoned. To be re-written.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/915898) by [YourLoyalBlogger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourLoyalBlogger/pseuds/YourLoyalBlogger). 



> This a re-worked, retelling of a previous fic i wrote, of the same name. But I wasn't happy with it. So I'm trying again.

Life rarely happens the way we think it will. We assume, based on our previous experiences that it will go from **A** to **B**. Even **C** is a possibility. But rarely do we expect it to jump right to **K** , or **P** or even **Y**. The future is a mystery for a reason. It isn't fond of jumping to conclusions. It takes us down an impossibly large maze with _**far**_ too many exits. And we can end up in the strangest of places when we push forth past the _**wooden gate of possibility**_ and into the unknown. _(Hopefully there's a nice fountain. Fountains look good paired with a maze.)_ This is precisely what Doctor Watson was about to discover as he took a break from his practice to wander the streets of old London Town. 

 

* * *

 

 

Doctor John Watson was an ordinary looking man. He was neither tall nor short. He was neither large nor thin. One wouldn't look at this man and exclaim : ** _'Now there's an incredible fellow!'._** But frankly they should. You see, beneath the winter wool coat was an extraordinary man. A veteran of war and a scholar of medicine. His body was neither large nor thin; it was strong and fit. However, it was wounded. Such a pain filled body and mind, had John Watson. He'd returned home wounded and in tatters. But was a proper english gentleman and kept things under a stiff upper lip _(and moustache)_ , even though he was falling apart inside. He trudged on, in life, searching for purpose _(And a flat)_. He didn't know that purpose was about to hit him with a brick. _(A metaphorical brick in this sense.)_

 

Watson leaned against an old oak tree, his coat pulled tight around him, as he braved the wintery weather. It was extraordinarily difficult to get some peace and quiet in London, especially during the gift-giving season. But the park was only filled with the cold air and the drunk on his bench, fast asleep. His newspaper was thicker than normal but that didn't trouble him. More for the fire and more to read. He opened it to its centre and began to flick through the pages. _(People rarely seem to start at the beginning. Despite the importance of front page news.)_ And was surprised to discover a distinct lack of advertisements. Save for one. One very large, very strange looking ad. A flatmate was required for 221b Baker Street. However, as a man very familiar with the city of London, he knew that there was no 221b in Baker Street. The houses didn't go up to that number. Clearly a mistake. But this was not the only reason for its oddness. No. For it was glowing and the words seemed to be moving...

 

Watson closed his eyes and then the paper. Stress, fatigue, the common cold. All reasons for such a funny little warp in his mind. Because newspapers did not glow and advertisements didn't not spin their letters. _(Or invite readers to non-existent places. Unless it was for nefarious reasons.)_ He rubbed his eyes and sighed. Time to go, his cold, leisurely break had been a mistake. 

"Don't go." Said the voice hiding behind him.

Watson turned in surprise, his hand tightening around the handle of his cane. There was no one there of course. He would have heard someone sneaking up behind him. The newspaper was the only thing there. Lying ominously on the leafy ground. A trick of the mind. There had been no voice. Only the wind. This is what Watson would have told himself if things gone differently. (And indeed he still did, despite the upcoming turn of events) Because the newspaper was floating and in place of the advert was a single eye illustrated on the page. A moving eye, looking him up and down. And right into his soul.

"Are you sure this is the right one?" The eye asked nobody.

"He found the paper. No one else did and you know very well it's been there for months."

The eye rolled in its socket and then looked sharply at Watson. Who had not moved, his face white with shock because he was clearly going mad and about to be carted off to Bedlam. 

"Please step forward, London Man." Watson did not, he didn't answer to disembodied eyes. Plus his feet no longer obeyed him. They wished for him to fall to his knees and take a nice nap. _(Your feet know what's good for your sole after all)_

"I knew this would happen, brother mine. My idea would have been less of a shock and more of a gradual surprise."

"Having him follow a white rabbit?"

 

Nobody scoffed and the eye narrowed. Then it disappeared. But a second, Watson was relieved. Beyond relieved. But his relief was short lived, as the eye was replaced with the drawing of a hand, getting closer and closer to the frame of the advertisement. Until it broke out of its papery prison and grabbed the coat collar of John Hamish Watson. Watson only had time to emit one hushed curse _(for which we will omit for him here)_ before being sucked into the newspaper. Which fell melodramatically to the ground _(as plot devices do.)_ Of all the paths John had taken in life and all the ones he'd seen before him, none ended with him being sucked into a newspaper by a suited arm. If only that was the strangest thing that was to befall him that day. 

If only.


	2. Through The Paper

**Underland** was a misnomer. It was not beneath the earth, rather it was attached to it. To put it simply, the two worlds were connected in time and space but not physically. Wonderland was slightly more correct, however no one that lived there called it by that name. Their world was ordinary, as far as they were concerned. It was earth that was the strange one. Though very few were aware of the other world, only those that had cause to discover it. It had been tied to the planet for millenia. And the cause of many a myth and legend. But the supposed ordineriness of Wonderland was of no concern for John Watson. Who had been falling through a colourful void for what felt like hours. His journey only coming to an end when something large and very strong latched onto his coat. He instinctually pulled away only for the thing to clutch the material harder. However despite it's military quality it ripped, sending the intruder falling through a seperate tunnel and leaving Watson to wallow in his increased confusion.

Until the ride came to an abrupt halt. Watson fell flat on his face, which he supposed was an improvement. Especially since said face felt grass against its cheeks. He lifted his head, giving the ground a glance before pulling himself up and dusting his trouser bottoms. _We must say trousers here as to not give other readers a confusing image._

"You're late." Said a voice that sounded oddly familiar. John looked up, surprised to see a stripe-suited man in front of him. He was holding a clipboard in one hand and a pocket watch in the other. He wasn't going to think about the umbrella, standing in the air on it's own. It gave off the same disproving energy as the man. In not thinking about the umbrella, he had succeeded in thinking of it. And it seemed to know this.

"I'm sorry?" Watson replied, unaware that he was meant to be anywhere, anytime soon.

"You should be. I expected you three minutes ago and here you are, _late_. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" John Watson could think of a few strong words to give to this man but bit his tongue. Nothing he could say would make for a good excuse because nothing made sense!

"I'll take that as a no. Please follow me and try not to get lost. We are already behind schedule." 

The man turned abruptly, the umbrella hopping after him as both disappeared into the woods. The woods? Watson gave his surroundings another look. He was no longer in the park. But the tunnel to nowhere had told him that. But these woods and these trees looked nothing like he'd ever seen before. Several were even jumping out of the man's way as he followed down a path John couldn't see. The doctor ran after him before he disappeared entirely, the trees were not so kind to him. He swore on even deliberately hit him with it's branches. The suited man seemed to fade in and out, only maintaining a solid form when Watson attempted to talk to him. 

"You didn't tell me your name." He managed after picking himself out of a cackling bush.

"No I didn't." What a git of a man.

"Right then."  
  


\--

After what felt like twenty minutes of walking through heavy terrain did Watson finally managed to match the man's pace. Who seemed pleasantly surprised and kept a solid form throughout the remainder of the journey. 

"Sorry but, where exactly are we going?"

"Does it matter?" John though it very much did.

"Well, yes actually."

"If I told you it would mean nothing and since you already know nothing, what good would it do you?" There were few people John would like to punch the living daylights out of but this man was suddenly on that list, however true his words may have been. John grumbled under his breath as the man smiled smugly and gestured towards a derelict bridge.

"We're almost there."

John supposed that was the man's attempt of comforting his charge. But pointing at a bridge that could collapse at any minute, whilst being an absolute git wasn't really working for him. 

"We're supposed to cross that? It could drop at any moment!" The man didn't seem to sense the danger, or didn't care, crossing it with ease. It didn't make him feel any better. 

The man tapped his watch and Watson mustered up his courage and took a step forward. The bridge wobbled but held fast. Within a few seconds he'd crossed it, relieved to be back on solid ground. The man however had already continued walking ahead of him, thankfully not very far. He appeared to be searching for something in the trees. John saw nothing but more trees. The forest seemed to be endless. With a satisfied hum, the man finally picked up the animated umbrella, pointing it at a space in the trees. The forest suddenly glowed with green light and a door appeared. An ordinary wooden door, painted blue. It even had a door knocker. _One of those frightening looking ones that could bit your hand off at any moment._

"This way. It's only a door." The man seemed to sense his inner most thoughts. He knew it was just a door. A door in a forest. Attached to nothing, that just materialised out of nowhere. He just needed a moment. A few moments. The other man became impatient and went through the doorway leaving Watson with his thoughts and a very angry looking umbrella. Which was an impressive feat for a brolly. Not wanting to find out what an impatient, angry umbrella might do, he followed the suited man through the door and into...well he wasn't sure.


End file.
